Inside, the noise was even louder, bouncing off the high ceilings. Kids milled about in clumps, some looking as lost and overwhelmed as Darian felt, others swaggering with the easy confidence of the well-bred. He spotted the two silk-clad boys from the other day and quickly averted his gaze, not wanting to draw their attention.

"Oof. Tough crowd," Lila murmured, echoing his thoughts. "You'd think they were here for a garden party, not an exam."

Darian snorted. "Right? I feel like I should have worn my best potato sack."

That startled a laugh out of her. "Oh, don't worry. I'm sure you'd look very fetching in a potato sack. The height of fashion, really."

They grinned at each other, some of the tension easing. Trust Lila to find the humour in even the most daunting situation.

Just then, a hush fell over the hall. Darian looked up to see a tall, severe-looking man in dark robes striding to the front of the room. He carried a sheaf of papers in one hand and a wooden pointer in the other, which he rapped sharply against a lectern to get their attention.

"Settle down, settle down," he called, his voice carrying easily over the mutterings. "I am Proctor Valis, and I will be overseeing today's examination. I trust you are all prepared?"

There were a few scattered nods and mumbles, but most of the kids just stared at him with wide, anxious eyes. Valis seemed unperturbed by this lukewarm response.

"Very well. Let me begin by explaining the format of the test. You will have three hours to complete it, and it will cover a range of subjects including history, mathematics, law, language, and logic. There are a total of two hundred questions."

A gasps and groans rippled through the crowd. Two hundred questions? In three hours? It seemed impossible.

Valis held up a hand for silence. "Yes, I know it seems daunting. But I assure you, it is achievable - for those with the right aptitude." His gaze swept over them, cold and assessing. "This is, after all, a test not just of knowledge, but of ability. A true measure of your potential."

Darian swallowed hard. Potential. That's what this all came down to, wasn't it? The potential to be more than a village hunter, to make something of himself. To change his stars.

Valis was still talking. "Now, as for the scoring. The top one hundred students in the kingdom will be offered a place at the Royal Academy in the capital. These are typically those who answer every question correctly, or perhaps miss only one or two. Last year, only three applicants from this test centre qualified.”

A susurration of whispers ran through the hall at that. The Royal Academy. It was the stuff of dreams, a golden ticket to a life of privilege and power. But only for the very, very best.

"To gain entry to one of the prestigious city academies, such as our own Arbrook Academy, you will need to achieve a score of at least seventy percent," Valis went on. "However, competition for places is fierce, and in practice, the threshold is often much higher. Last year, for example, the cut-off for Arbrook was eighty-five percent."

Eighty-five percent. The number rang in Darian's ears. That meant he could only afford to get thirty questions wrong, out of two hundred. Thirty tiny mistakes, and his dreams would be dashed.

Around him, the other kids were muttering and shifting, some looking queasy, others determined. A few - mostly the rich kids - seemed almost bored, as if the whole thing was beneath them. Darian felt a flare of anger. It must be nice, to be so certain of your place in the world. To never have to fight for anything.

Valis rapped his pointer against the lectern again, regaining their attention. "The exam will begin shortly. When I call your name, you will proceed to the testing hall and take your assigned seat. You may not talk, pass notes, or leave the room for any reason until the test is complete. Any violation of these rules will result in immediate disqualification. Am I understood?"

A chorus of "Yes, sirs" rang out. Darian clutched his papers tighter, trying to quell the butterflies rioting in his stomach. This was it. The moment of truth.

Lila reached out and grabbed his hand, giving it a quick, hard squeeze. "Hey. Remember what we promised," she whispered. "You and me."

Darian squeezed back, drawing strength from her grip. "You and me," he echoed.

They held on for a moment longer, then Lila let go, squaring her shoulders. "Right. Let's do this."

She flashed him a quick, fierce grin, then turned to face forward as Valis began calling out names. One by one, the students filed past them and through a set of double doors at the back of the hall.

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After what felt like an age, Valis called out, "Darian Willowby."

Darian's heart leapt into his throat. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing pulse. This was it. His chance to prove himself, to change his life. He couldn't blow it.

He cast one last look at Lila, who gave him a thumbs up and a wink. Then, clutching his test papers, he walked forward on trembling legs, following the other students into the examination hall.

The room was huge, with high, arched windows that let in slanting bars of sunlight. Rows upon rows of desks marched across the flagstone floor, each one equipped with an inkwell, quill, and stack of blank paper. Proctors in dark robes prowled the aisles, their eyes sharp and watchful.

Darian found his assigned desk and slid into the seat, his heart pounding. Around him, the other students were doing the same, a tense and jittery bunch. Some were muttering to themselves, others cracking their knuckles or bouncing their legs. A few looked on the verge of tears.

At the front of the room, Proctor Valis cleared his throat. Instant silence fell. He held up a large hourglass, the sand glinting in the light.

"You have three hours," he said. "And your time starts... now."

With a sharp twist of his wrist, he flipped the hourglass and set it on the lectern. The sand began to pour through, a steady stream from top to bottom, the seconds slipping away.

A great crackling and popping filled the room as a few hundred seals were cracked in unison. Darian turned over his stack of papers with hands that shook only a little.

The first question swam before his eyes, taunting him. He blinked hard, trying to focus.

'In what year did King Aeria sign the Treaty of Oaksbridge?'

He racked his brain, trying to remember. It was one of the dates Breck had drilled into him, he knew it. Eleven-something, or was it twelve? Eleven-fifty, eleven-sixty...

A bead of sweat trickled down his temple. Come on, think!Breck's voice seemed to whisper in his ear, steady and sure. 'Eleven-seventy-two, lad. The year of the Great Flood, remember?'

Eleven-seventy-two. Yes, that was it! Darian dipped his quill in the inkwell and carefully wrote out the date, double-checking it before moving on to the next question.

And so it went, for the next three hours. Some questions he knew instantly, the answers leaping to his mind. Others he had to puzzle out, racking his memory for half-forgotten snippets of information. A few stumped him completely, and he was forced to make educated guesses, his gut churning with doubt.

The minutes ticked by, marked by the steady whisper of quills on parchment and the occasional creak of a chair. The proctors continued their silent patrols, their eyes missing nothing. Once, the girl next to Darian dropped her quill, and he almost leapt out of his skin at the sudden noise.

Gradually, the questions grew harder, more complex. They moved beyond simple regurgitation of facts into trickier territory - logic puzzles, mathematical word problems, analyses of poetic verse. Darian's head ached with the strain of it, but he kept going, determined not to give up.

He thought of his mother, toiling endlessly to keep their little family afloat. Of Talia, so bright and eager, her future a wide open sky. Of Breck, who'd gone out of his way to help him chase this dream. He couldn't let them down. He wouldn't.

The last few questions were a blur, his hand flying across the page in a desperate race against time.

When the proctor finally called time, it felt like both an age and an instant had passed. Darian blinked, coming back to himself as the test parchments were collected.

He looked around and caught Lila's eye a few rows away. She gave him a shaky smile and a discreet thumbs up. They'd done it. Now all that remained was waiting.

As they filed out of the hall into the slanting light of late afternoon, Lila found Darian in the crowd. She flung an arm around his shoulders, giddy with relief.

"We survived! I don't know about you, but my brain feels wrung out like a dishrag."

"Mine too," Darian agreed. "I never want to see another quill as long as I live."

"At least not 'til next term at the Academy, eh?" Lila winked.

"Next term. Gods." The thought was dizzying. In just a few short weeks, they would find out whether they had done enough to change their families’ lives.

He sent up a silent prayer to Verenia, goddess of wisdom and learning. Let my best be good enough. Let me make Ma proud. Give me a chance...